by Sue Harrison
“I have heard the Near River women wear shell-beaded leggings,” Star said.
Chakliux, surprised by her boldness, thought for a moment, trying to remember what the women wore. “Yes,” he said, “some do.” He looked down at Cloud Finder’s daughter, again felt himself caught by her eyes. “If I have any trade goods left after dealing with your father,” he said, “I will try to get some leggings for you.”
She smiled, showing a dimple at the corner of her mouth. Then her father called from within the lodge, and she ducked inside. Cloud Finder came out. In his fur parka, he was as large as a bear. How had such a man made himself a small, beautiful daughter? Chakliux wondered. Then he pulled his mind from the girl and watched Cloud Finder fasten the dog Snow Hawk to Sok’s sled.
Chakliux was pleased when he found that Cloud Finder had decided to trade Snow Hawk. She was strong, with a wide chest and well-formed legs. Unlike other dogs, she would pull a sled, never fighting against the harness. She had also just given birth to a litter of healthy pups.
Cloud Finder handed them to Chakliux. They were in pouches of caribou skin hung from a sling.
“Put them inside,” Cloud Finder told him, pointing to Chakliux’s chest. He draped the sling around Chakliux’s neck and slid the pups down under his parka. They were still small, each no larger than Chakliux’s hand. He felt their warm tongues against his skin as he settled them into place.
Cloud Finder strapped on his snowshoes, hoops of willow bound into a circle with a webbing of rawhide. They were longer and wider than the snowshoes Chakliux wore. He gave a command, and Snow Hawk leaned her weight into Sok’s sled.
“Four females, one male,” Cloud Finder said, pursing his lips toward the bulge of pups under Chakliux’s parka.
Chakliux raised his eyebrows to show he understood. Four females, five counting Snow Hawk, and a male. And Cloud Finder to teach the Near River People how to raise strong dogs. A better trade than he had dared hope for.
Cloud Finder clasped Snow Hawk’s harness as she pulled the sled past the dogs still tied in the lee of his wife’s lodge. Snow Hawk raised her nose and howled. Chakliux looked nervously back toward K’os’s lodge. It was on the other side of the village, but she was a woman of sharp ears. He leaned toward Snow Hawk, cupped his hand over her muzzle. Her howling stopped, but she pranced as Cloud Finder untied one of his larger male dogs.
“Big Neck,” he said to Chakliux.
Chakliux remembered the dog. He had been the runt of a litter so large, the mother had trouble feeding them all. The owner had decided to kill the pup and add his meat to the village boiling bags, but Cloud Finder had seen the dog for his true worth, traded some small trinket for him. Now any man in the village would be proud to own Big Neck.
Big Neck carried his curled tail high, ears forward, and his feet danced as he met Snow Hawk. The dogs touched noses, then, responding to Cloud Finder’s command, led the way from the village.
“They are anxious to meet the Near River dogs,” Cloud Finder said, and laughed.
Chakliux smiled but did not speak his gladness. What could be better? They had Snow Hawk and her five pups. Perhaps while Cloud Finder was visiting the Near River Village, Big Neck would father litters to Near River females. Then even the young hunters would have to admit the generosity of the Cousin River People.
They walked through that day, stopping only to break away balls of snow that formed between the pads of the dogs’ feet and to allow Snow Hawk to nurse her pups.
That night they made a fire with wood Cloud Finder had loaded on the sled. They ate the hardened fat, berry cakes and dried meat Cloud Finder’s wife had packed for them, then tipped the sled up on its side, a break against the wind, a shelter for the fire, and spoke of times they had shared in the village.
Finally Cloud Finder asked, “Tell me about these Near River People. I have been in their village often, have bedded some of their women, but I do not know them like you do.”
“They are hardworking people,” Chakliux answered. “Their ways are much like ours. They are gifted hunters, but their dogs are not as good as ours, and their women are not as beautiful.”
Cloud Finder laughed, his voice loud in the cold air. “You told me the shaman’s daughter did not want you, but have you spoken for some other woman among them?” he asked.
“No,” Chakliux answered. He had taken the pups from beneath his parka. They lay now on a bed of spruce branches covered with a caribou skin, nursing from their mother. He leaned over and stroked Snow Hawk’s flank. He thought of Blueberry, but said, “I have no wife among them.”
Cloud Finder did not speak, and Chakliux understood the man waited for an explanation. Finally Chakliux said, “There is something I must tell you, something I did not know myself until I visited the Near River Village.” He straightened and turned to face Cloud Finder. “There is a woman in the Near River Village who claims me as son. She says she threw me away, left me for the wind because of my foot.”
“So,” Cloud Finder said, “to the Near River People you are not animal-gift. Do they see you as cursed?”
“Some of them. Others do not. They remember that I swim. They see my feet as proof of otter blood.”
For a long time, Cloud Finder watched the flames of their fire, then he said, “That is how I see you, as otter. A man who works for peace is a good man, no matter who his mother is.”
And Chakliux knew he did not refer to his Near River mother, but to K’os.
They awoke to storm, the dogs curled tightly against the wind, tails tucked over noses. They had allowed the pups to sleep with their mother for the night, and Chakliux crawled on hands and knees from the shelter of fur robes and crusted snow to check them.
The wind flung snow and ice, sharp as stone. He spoke to the dogs, though the storm whipped away his words. He did not want to startle Snow Hawk, face her teeth as she leapt to protect her young. But she did not move. Carefully, he slipped his hand into the mound of snow that covered her, trying not to dislodge it, knowing it held in her warmth, but she raised her head at his touch. He slipped his caribou hide mitten from his hand and worked his fingers down to Snow Hawk’s belly.
He found the first pup, mouth tight on one of its mother’s teats. The pup’s heartbeat was strong against Chakliux’s fingertips. He moved his hand over each pup. They were warm, dry and alive. He went back to his own place, tucked himself close to the upturned sled. He felt a tug at his arm and responded to Cloud Finder’s question.
“Snow Hawk and the pups are fine. I did not check Big Neck.”
“He has seen many storms,” Cloud Finder said. “Do not worry about him.” He handed Chakliux a stick of dried meat. Chakliux clamped the end in his teeth and cut off a bite-sized piece with his sleeve knife. The taste of wood smoke warmed him as though he held a small hearth fire in his mouth.
The storm left them the next night, and they started out under the clear shine of stars. Snow Hawk seemed anxious, the bitch pulling against the sled harness until Chakliux allowed her to begin.
As they walked, Chakliux heard a crackling sound that came first to his spirit then to his ears. He looked back over his shoulder, toward the high dark sky of the north, smiled when he saw the yaykaas—the flashing sky—bend and shimmer in greens and pinks.
“See,” Cloud Finder said, and lifted one arm toward the lights that moved like dancers above the earth. “Our ancestors tell us we do well. They are the grandfathers of both villages and do not want to see their children kill one another.”
“Yes,” Chakliux said. He felt the squirm of the pups beneath his parka and sudden strength filled his body. Whatever the Near River People thought about him, when they saw the dogs they could not deny that he tried to bring them something good.
He looked ahead to Snow Hawk. No dog in the Near River Village could match her, not even Tsaani’s good bear dogs. She seemed to pull the sled with little effort. Big Neck walked beside her, head high, eyes scanning as though he alone were resp
onsible for their safety.
Suddenly Big Neck stopped, lifted his nose into the air. Cloud Finder slapped an arm against Chakliux’s shoulder and pointed with a mittened hand toward the dog. Chakliux nodded as Big Neck pranced in a nervous circle, then darted back to look behind them. The dog raised his nose again, growled low in his throat.
“Wolves,” Cloud Finder said. “They will be hungry after that storm.”
He spoke sharply to Big Neck. The dog whined, then rejoined them, moving in close to Snow Hawk. Snow Hawk glanced at him but kept pulling, cocking her head back now and again to look at Chakliux’s chest, the bulge that was her pups. Cloud Finder motioned her forward without speaking, and she continued, but she began a high-pitched whine Chakliux could hear over the sound of the sled runners.
He leaned down close to the dog and said, “Do not worry. They are safe.” But she continued to whine, and increased her speed so Chakliux nearly had to run to keep up with her.
“Slow her down,” Cloud Finder called. “She will make us sweat.”
Yes, Chakliux thought, knowing the sweat would form a thin layer of ice against their skin, enough to freeze them before they got to the Near River Village. He caught the back edge of the sled and held it until, under the pressure of his hands, Snow Hawk slowed. He turned to look back at Cloud Finder. Cloud Finder nodded at him, then lifted his left hand, showing Chakliux he had taken his sleeve knife from its sheath.
Sok had given Chakliux a long-bladed obsidian knife the morning he left the Near River Village; not for trade, Sok had told him, but as protection. Chakliux drew it now from the scabbard tied on the outside of his right calf. The black blade drew a nod of admiration from Cloud Finder.
“From my brother,” Chakliux said.
“You would consider a trade?” Cloud Finder asked.
“I cannot.”
“So one good thing has come of your visit to the Near Rivers,” Cloud Finder said. “Your brother.”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps his knife will bring us luck against the wolves.”
Big Neck stopped, turned to face whatever followed them. Finally Cloud Finder also stopped, squinted down the trail.
Chakliux continued to walk, and when Cloud Finder caught up with him, he asked, “Did you see anything?”
“Nothing, but do not put away your knife. We should walk as far as we can. Perhaps we can reach the Near River Village without stopping.”
“What about the dogs?”
“It will be easier for them than for us,” said Cloud Finder, and tried to laugh, but his laughter was hollow under the dome of the night sky.
It is too far, Chakliux thought, already feeling the ache in his foot, already hearing Cloud Finder’s ragged breathing. If he had two strong feet, if Cloud Finder was thin, agile, they might make it, but, no, not as they were. They would have to stop and face the wolves.
They walked through the night and on into the day, the sun glaring through the slits of their caribou antler snow goggles, and they continued to walk once the sun had set. Still they had not reached the Near River, so that Chakliux wondered if somehow, in the storm, they had begun to circle, losing themselves on the tundra. At least the dogs were no longer skittish. The wolves, Chakliux decided, must have grown weary of following them.
Finally they stopped. Even the dogs moved with stiff legs. Chakliux’s eyes burned from the day of sun on snow, and in the dark all things seemed spotted with slits of light so he could not be sure of what he saw. His hands, now accustomed to Snow Hawk’s harness, worked without the help of his eyes to unfasten the dog. He reached into his parka to give her the pups for feeding, but she leapt away as Cloud Finder threw out pieces of dog salmon for her and Big Neck.
Chakliux dug down to bare ground, then spread a layer of spruce branches and laid out wood for a fire. He took fireweed fluff and shreds of dried birchbark from a packet hung at his neck and set it around a piece of notched wood, then took out his fire bow. He twisted the string around the twirling stick, set the stick into the notched wood, then pressed his chin against the cup at the top of the stick. He used the bow to twist and untwist the string, twirling the stick until movement and pressure made heat strong enough to create fire. The flames caught the fireweed fluff, then spread to the bark and wood.
Cloud Finder squatted beside him on his haunches and fed the fire patiently until they had a blaze, then he set a tripod over it and hung a small boiling bag, a stew made by Cloud Finder’s wife. During their journey it had frozen in the bag. Cloud Finder had almost left it, telling Chakliux they had enough dried meat and berry cakes to keep them. Now, after walking that long day and most of the night before, after waiting through two days of storm, Chakliux was glad for the chance to eat hot food. Both men scooped snow into their wooden bowls and set the bowls at the edge of the fire so the snow would melt into water.
Chakliux began to see better, and so felt himself relax, the tension in his shoulders and back subsiding to a pulsing ache. If they had been followed by wolves, he thought, they would attack now, in darkness, but the dogs showed no signs of nervousness, Snow Hawk nursing her pups, Big Neck asleep. Of course, the fire would help keep wolves away, but, he reminded himself, the smell of food would draw them. He had slipped his knife into its sheath when they stopped to make camp, but had thrust his spear point-up in the snow, within easy reach.
He poked at the snow in his bowl until it melted. He drank, then waited as Cloud Finder dipped his bowl into the boiling bag and filled it with stew. Chakliux filled his own bowl. They were still eating when Big Neck raised his head and growled.
The dog stood, his legs stiff, the fur on his back bristled. Chakliux grabbed his spear and jumped to his feet.
A shout came from the darkness, the voice of a man.
Cloud Finder threw back his head and laughed. “River Jumper, you always know when there is food!”
River Jumper came into the light of the fire, and Chakliux, too, grinned.
“You have been following us?” Chakliux asked.
“Ah, my wife, she threw me out again,” he said, his face only a dark circle tucked back in the ruff of his parka. “I had to come this far to get fed!”
Cloud Finder dipped his bowl into the boiling bag and held it out to the man. “So that is what happened to our wolves,” he said. “They were following us. They must have smelled you coming behind and left our trail. They are smart enough not to be caught between two groups of hunters.”
River Jumper took the bowl from Cloud Finder. “I saw their tracks,” he said. “There were five of them.”
“It was good they did not turn and attack you,” said Cloud Finder. “You should not have come alone. It is a dangerous trail for a man without friends.”
River Jumper lifted his bowl of meat toward Chakliux. “This young one made it. I knew I could, too. I thought, though, that I would catch you before this. I want to help you make a good deal with the Near Rivers. They are a people of smooth words.” He laughed. “But so am I.”
Chakliux laid down his spear, picked up his bowl and stepped outside the circle of firelight. He drew his sleeve knife from its sheath and cut at the hardened snow. He knew River Jumper must be thirsty.
He heard Cloud Finder laugh, and River Jumper’s loud voice, then a muffled sound, as though something fell into the snow. He turned, the bowl in one hand, his sleeve knife in the other.
At first he did not understand what he saw: River Jumper stood with a knife in his hand. Blood dripped from the blade. Chakliux dropped his bowl, crouched, looking for the wolves he thought had attacked. Then he saw Cloud Finder crumpled in a heap near the fire, and he realized there were no wolves. Only River Jumper.
Snow Hawk backed away, several pups trying to keep their hold on her teats. Chakliux nearly called to her, but then did not. Why draw River Jumper’s attention?
Big Neck growled, and River Jumper turned to face him. The man shouted, and Big Neck attacked. River Jumper met him with Cloud Finder’s sp
ear, thrusting it into the dog’s belly as he leapt. The dog yelped and fell. He cried out when he hit the ground, then was silent.
River Jumper pulled the spear free of Big Neck’s body. Snow Hawk placed herself between the man and her pups, her ears flat against her head, her teeth bared.
“Do not worry, little mother,” River Jumper said. “I will not hurt you.” He bent slowly and picked up Chakliux’s spear. Then he stood, lifted both weapons and called out.
“Your mother, K’os, sends her greetings.”
Chapter Eleven
“WHY?” CHAKLIUX SHOUTED AT River Jumper, and lifted one hand toward Cloud Finder. The man lay on the ground, his blood seeping into the snow.
“Look! What do I see?” River Jumper said, his answer coming in the familiar form of a riddle. “The winter grows old and in anger sends the wind.”
“You are the wind?” Chakliux asked.
River Jumper laughed. “You honor me,” he said, and shook his head. “You are a child, Chakliux. Do not try to understand.”
Snow Hawk stood beside her pups, her eyes moving from Chakliux to the spears in River Jumper’s hands. She crouched, and Chakliux saw the muscles in her flanks ripple. He knew Snow Hawk; he had watched her among the village dogs. She would fight to the death, but not for him. He had not yet earned such loyalty. She would fight for her pups. She would go for River Jumper’s throat, even after seeing Cloud Finder and Big Neck killed.
Chakliux shifted the sleeve knife to his left hand and carefully drew the obsidian blade from his leg sheath. It was a fine knife, well-balanced, and he was good with knives, but who could say whether knives made in the Near River Village carried the same vision as those he had grown up with. Each weapon, like each man, was different. He set his eyes on the triangle beneath River Jumper’s chin, the gap left by the ruff of his parka hood. That soft and vulnerable spot.
Snow Hawk growled, a low rumbling in her throat. River Jumper’s eyes moved to the animal. In that brief moment, Chakliux pulled back his arm and threw.
